


Seriously Ill Poetry

by chemmex



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, dave strider/karkat vantas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 06:12:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3436493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemmex/pseuds/chemmex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Karkat needs help in English class, and as it turns out, ex-friend Dave Strider is all he's got. Typical.<br/>Nub's POV</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ch. 1

Another fucking fail. Another one! How many more shitty papers can I write and completely screw up before my grade deteriorates to the point of no return?

 

The teacher handed back our practice essays with a slightly judgmental glower to those of us who proved to be rather incompetent once again. I rolled my eyes at the page consolidated with plentiful red slashes and shoved it in my notebook, not bothering to read the nigh-illegible comments.

 

When she finished passing out the papers, she paced her way back to her podium with a bittersweet sigh and said “Okay class, some of you are really comprehending this unit’s key-points. I was more than content with a few of you in this last assignment, however others could still use some work. The next paper we write will be the last grade in this section and will therefore hold a colossal effect on your final grade in this class.”

 

Thank fucking god we’re ending this torturous segment soon. Poetry, as it turns out, is not my strong suit when it comes to English class. My grade plummeted when we started reading, writing, and analyzing the aggravating medley of sonnets and verses. I leaned in in my seat a little, anxious to hear what the teacher had more to say because as much as I hated to think about it, if I don’t do well on this next spell of misery, the consequences will be about as pretty as a shit-stained daisy garden.

 

She continued, summarizing what we needed to do: “You will write a poem—any kind, any style, any subject— for a hundred point grade. You will work with your partners to get advice and productive feedback, but create the actual project individually, presenting them to each other as you make progress each day.”

 

Partners? Really? If there’s anything I hate it’s when teachers force us to work with other people. Normally I would just blow off my teacher and my supposed-to-be colleague, but I don’t think that’s much of an option at this point because…. I’m desperate. 

 

I glared at my partner that was assigned at the beginning of the year, Dave Strider, and he smugly smirked back. On several occasions this year he has tried to spark a conversation, to which I replied with an enthusiastic ‘Fuck off!’ and he a chuckle of pompous pride. There was a time in middle school, when I was—believe it or not—somewhat less of an asshole to everyone and Dave and I were better acquainted with each other. And okay, there may or may not also have been a time during that time when I had a slight crush on the douche, however now I’m sure it was just a response to puberty and hormones and all that idiotic jazz. The affection never went passed physical attraction after all.

 

And now, none of that matters because upon entering high school a couple of years ago, I have happily isolated myself from him and most everyone else, and I intend to keep it that way whether we have to work together or not.

 

He broke the comfortable silence first. “So, Kitkat, looks like today’s your lucky day,” he said, a glimmer conveniently reflecting off of his shades from the fluorescent lighting and what I’m sure is coincidental angle placement.

 

“My name is Karkat, remember? And if this day is anything, it’s the prime manifestation of the Abominable Shit Monster,” I replied. Stupid, lousy, distracting Strider, he probably won’t let me get any work done all week.

 

He continued his smirk, obviously amused and unscathed by either of my statements. “Listen shorty, if you wanna be like that then I’m not gonna help you.”

 

“As if your assistance is required! I doubt you did any better than me in this unit so far!”

 

“It just so happens to be that this unit is my home turf, I fucking dominate poetry like it’s a half-assed built snowman in the middle of July and I’m the sun, all emitting my hot waves of sick stanzas with no mercy—”

 

“Shut the hell up,” I interrupted. I forgot about his interest in rapping, although the last time I’ve heard anything of his it was a mere thirteen-year-old’s mediocre best. “I’m not in the mood for your rambling metaphors. If you’re so good at it then what have your grades been?”

 

“Nothing less than perfect,” he said matter-of-factly, “want me to get them out and show you?”

 

I grumbled a bit and said no, and the rest of the class was spent on tossing back ideas on what to write about. I’m pretty sure he already knew what his topic and format would be and he was just talking with me for my benefit, and after filtering out all of his sarcastic comments I was grateful because he was actually helpful. But of course I would never admit that.

 

And then the bell rang and we mulled on to our other classes until it was time to leave. After getting home I had a rather uneventful afternoon that revolved around conventional after-school-activities: watching TV, eating, and my personal favorite, sleeping. But I couldn’t take my ritual Monday nap today, for some odd reason, so instead I thought about what to write about for the project that was consuming me, especially focusing on Strider’s suggestions because as it turns out he knew what he was doing. Despite this however, I still didn’t make any headway in the main idea whilst gluing my eyes the popcorn ceiling of my respiteblock.

 

Just as I was about to finally drift off into sleep, I heard an awakening ding! coming from my phone, leaving me with two questions: who the fuck? and why the fuck?


	2. Ch. 2

I groaned, taking a considerable amount of time and effort to sit up and find my phone. It was Kanaya, one of my best and only friends, messaging me:  
GA: Hello Karkat I Trust That Your Afternoon Has Been Less Than Problematic  
GA: Ive Been Asked To Present A Question On Behalf Of Someone Else  
I rolled my eyes but replied anyway:  
CG: IT IN FACT HAS BEEN LESS THAN PROBLEMATIC, THAT IS UNTIL YOU PREVENTED ME FROM SLEEPING WITH YOUR MOST LIKELY POINTLESS INDIRECT INQUIRIES.  
CG: WHY CAN’T WHOEVER THE FUCK IS WANTING YOU TO ASK THIS QUESTION ASK IT THEMSELF?  
GA: They Certainly Could Have If They Had The Necessary Means Of Contacting You  
GA: Which They Dont  
GA: And Also If They Did Then The Need For Asking The Question In The First Place Would Be Senseless And Impractical  
CG: WHAT? OKAY I CHANGE MY MIND; I DON’T CARE ABOUT ALL THE TECHNICALITIES JUST ASK ME THE STUPID QUESTION ALREADY.  
GA: Dave Has Been Asking For Your Phone Number And I Thought I Should Get Your Compliance Before Handing Out Your Personal Information  
GA: That Being Said  
GA: Is It Acceptable If I Provide Said Information For Him?  
I sighed in contemplation. I didn’t know if I wanted that dickweed to have my number, for more than one reason. But I guess it would be smart for this week, and I guess I could always block him in the future if he proves to probe my tolerance like I know he can.  
CG: YEAH, SURE, GIVE IT TO HIM.  
CG: WHY ARE YOU TALKING TO HIM ANYWAY? IS HE AT ROSE’S AGAIN? 

Rose is Kanaya’s pretty serious girlfriend, and coincidentally Dave’s half-sister. She’s all right, a little snooty but nice when she wants to be. Kanaya has talked about Dave showing up every once in a while to hang out when she was over at Rose’s.  
GA: Yes He Appeared A Few Minutes Ago And Clarified That His Presence Would Be Brief  
GA: He Referenced That You And He Are Partners For An Assignment In One Of Your Mutual Classes  
GA: How Are You Feeling About That  
There she goes again, mothering me. She’s aware of my previous sentiments for Dave, just like she’s aware of everything else about me. If this plays out how I think it will then we’ll have an entire useless therapy session over text about the very guy who could be stealthily peering over her shoulder at any second, and to be honest I’m not sure I’m up for that.  
CG: I DON’T KNOW. I GUESS THE WHOLE SITUATION IS SOMEWHAT DISCONCERTING BUT I KIND OF NEED TO WORK WITH HIM BECAUSE I NEED A GOOD GRADE BECAUSE I FUCKING SUCK AT POETRY AND HAVE BEEN FAILING ENGLISH BECAUSE OF IT.  
GA: You Do Realize That This “Situation” Could Result In The Two Of You Getting Close Again  
GA: One Might Even Call This An Opportunity If They Had A Particularly Suggestive Outlook On The Soon To Be Endeavor  
CG: WOAH, WOAH, WOAH. WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY SUGGESTIVE? I DON’T KNOW WHAT ENCOURAGING OR DISCOURAGING THOUGHTS ARE RUNNING THROUGH YOUR HEAD BUT YOU’RE OVER-COMPLICATING IT, IT’S JUST ANOTHER CHORE I HAVE TO WORK ON ONLY THIS TIME WITH THE UNFORTUNATE DISPLEASURE OF COMPANY, COMPANY THAT WILL REMAIN STATIC AND UNIMPORTANT IN RELEVANCE TO EVERYTHING BUT THE WORK ITSELF THROUGHOUT THE WHOLE TIME, MIGHT I ADD.  
GA: I Wasnt Attempting To Be Either Encouraging Or Discouraging With My Statements  
CG: SURE, I *TOTALLY* BELIEVE THAT.  
GA: Okay Fine  
GA: I May Have Been Advocating The Idea That Perhaps You Could Open Up To You Know Who  
GA: Perhaps You Could Even Become Friends Again  
GA: Perhaps You Could Become More Than Friends  
I was slightly blushing at this point at the absurdity of her words.  
GA: Or Perhaps At The Very Least You Could React With Some Civility Towards Him  
GA: But I Already Know You Will Likely Make No Promises Even If Any One Of Those Ideas Sounded Appealing To You  
GA: Either Way I Should Be Going Now  
GA: Rose Is Requiring My Full Attention For Something At The Moment  
GA: Goodbye Karkat  
I told her bye back and wondered what it was Rose was needing her full attention for, but then stopped wondering because the theories were starting to get out of hand and I was imagining things I would rather not imagine at any moment of any day.  
I was half-expecting Dave to message me soon after all of that, and I’m ashamed to admit that I was slightly disappointed that he didn’t. It wasn’t until a few uneventful hours later that I heard from him:  
TG: hey kitkat  
TG: its your davey boy  
I let out a pent up sigh, trying not to get too worked up.  
CG: HOW MANY FUCKING TIMES AM I GOING TO HAVE TO TELL YOU WHAT MY NAME IS? WHILE I’M AT IT, HOW MANY TIMES AM I GOING TO HAVE TO TELL YOU WHAT *YOUR* NAME IS?  
TG: dude calm down  
TG: oh right your weird all caps typing quirk i forgot  
TG: strange that i could forget such a distinctive quality of yours isnt it  
TG: whatever look you wanna come over to my house?  
CG: WHY ON EARTH WOULD I WANT TO GO OVER TO YOUR HOUSE?  
TG: to pick fucking honey crisp apples in a quaint, private orchard  
TG: why the hell do you think  
TG: obviously you needed more help on the subject of your little poem so i figured if you wanted we could work on it more  
TG: you should at least get the main idea about it by tomorrow  
I sighed, he was right. If i don't figure something out tonight I'll be behind.  
CG: FINE.  
TG: really?  
TG: i wouldve thought youd spit in my face and tell me to fuck off  
CG: SHUT UP.  
CG: I CAN STILL DO THAT, AND I JUST MIGHT.  
TG: hey now no need to get feisty  
TG: so ill see you soon then??  
CG: YEAH, I'LL BE OVER IN A FEW MINUTES.  
TG: great  
I still remembered where he lived and i knew it wouldn't take more than five minutes to get there, so with adding yet another sigh to the collection I'd had going today i grabbed my backpack and started walking.  
By the time i got there i was shivering. It was January, why did i think a mere fucking sweatshirt would suffice?  
I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity and knocked on the door to the Strider residence. I'm not sure who else lives here, I'd never met any of his family, but I'd heard him talk about a guy named 'Bro' quite often before.  
Didn't matter, it was Dave who answered anyway.  
He opened up the door and placed a hand on the door frame with a smirk, looking me over. I immediately tried to control my shivering.  
"Well, well, well, what brings the little Vantas himself to my humble abode?"  
I folded my arms over my chest, both in attempt to warm up and make a point of his nonsense, "You f-fucking invited me and you know it."  
He stepped aside to let me in and said, "Is Kitkat cold? Does he need to be warmed up?"  
I growled and stepped inside while glaring at him, secretly basking in the glory of home-heating systems.  
He gestured for me to follow him up to his room, which was pretty messy if I do say so myself. He sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to him, so I sat.  
"So, got any ideas?" He asked while getting on his knees on the bed and picking up his red comforter and draping it over me.  
"What--Why--I don't know," I replied, just letting the blanket lay on my shoulders.  
He sat back, against the wall, "Really? Nothing?"  
"Well..." I thought about it for a minute, sure I had some ideas, but none of them struck me as acceptable options, "Yeah, pretty much nothing."  
"Huh," he replied, a blank look on his face. "Hang on, I might have something that'll help."  
He slid off his bed and started riffling through the drawers of a desk pushed against the wall, I tried to get a look at what he was getting but it just looked like a stack of crinkled papers.  
"Here," he handed the papers to me after returning to his spot, "They're some of my old raps. I mean some of them are really old, like second grade material, but everything i write is completely ingenious, so...."  
I stared at him for a few moments before leafing through the raps, skimming them over. "Wow," was all i said.  
He waited for a moment, probably thinking i would elaborate a little more on that before saying "Wow what?"  
I was wowing at both the fact that his even his pre-adolescent raps were somewhat decent and the fact that he was helping me out this much, but I just shook my head instead of telling him that.  
I got to a rap on bright red paper that caught my eye (as bright red paper would be expected to do so in comparison to plain white notebook paper) and read its scrawly writing with a little more consideration than the rest of them.  
It was titled 'Red' at the top of the page and was... rather bland and simple.  
"Oh, that," Dave acknowledged it, "that was from, like, when I was six. The teacher wanted us to write a poem about our favorite color."  
"And you chose red?" I blurted.  
“Yeah, man, red is the best color.”  
I just shook my head again before snapping it up and getting off the bed, the blanket falling off halfway onto the floor.  
“What are you doing?” Dave asked.  
“I—uh—I’m gonna go now. Yeah, I should be going,” I answered, looking at that paper did give me an idea for this. I started to head for the door but he grabbed my wrist which stopped me.  
“Dude, you literally just got here five minutes ago,” he protested.  
I almost considered staying as I looked at his hand lightly gripping my wrist before looking back at him and shrugging, “So? Bye Dave.”  
He let go of me, “Well, see you tomorrow then I guess.”  
I nodded and turned back to the door, walking out of it and exiting his house, once again cursing the world for being so cold in winter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is actually on wattpad already, that's right it's finished, but hey read it here i ain't complaining. i'll probably upload a chapter a day from here on out until it's over, but that's only relevant to you if you're reading it currently and not in the future with your flying cars and...well... other stereotypical future inventions that they mention in conundrums like this, i don't have the vast imagination to think of any more than flying cars right now... anyway, hope you've enjoyed!


	3. Ch. 3

When I returned home I did three things, worked on my newly inspired shitty subject, clouded my mind with, you guessed it, mind-clouding thoughts, and finally, slept.  
After organizing a thesis for my poem (I decided I would write about the nighttime. Lame, I know. Lame and simplistic and nothing a mere six-year-old couldn’t muster up, which of course is fitting because it was a six-year-old version of some incredibly obnoxious insufferable prick who reminded me to go back to the basics and pick out one of my favorite things, which nighttime can definitely suffice to fit into that exclusive category), I continued my never-ending thought process of all of the random things that did and didn’t happen in my uneventful life. I tend to think a lot, especially when I’m by myself and don’t have anyone physically or technologically there to rant and ramble to.  
And so the thoughts--some new, some old, some comforting, some unsettling—cartwheeled their way through my think pan and eventually metamorphasized into that aforementioned sleep.  
After awaking the next day rather similarly to how I awake everyday (tired and disgruntled), I pursued my usual lazy morning routine and went to school for the second time that week with efforts of trying to remember the dream I had the night before. Of course, the efforts were futile and I couldn’t remember the slightest sliver of a fuck what it was about, but it still seemed strange to me because I got the sense that it was different from my usual dreams… happier maybe? Lighter and brighter? Alas, I eventually shrugged it off because like I said, I was getting nowhere and I had other shit that needed to get done.  
The day lulled on, boring and consisting of nothing noteworthy other than the fact that as it turns out, I can hate my math teacher more than I did the day before, which I didn’t think was possible. If that tight-ass bitch counts me tardy one more time for missing the first thirty seconds of morning announcements, which are incredibly unimportant if I do say so myself, I am most likely going to be forced into a mental-health institution with a plentiful supply of anger management sessions after my violent and probably bloody outburst.  
Needless to say, I wasn’t in the best of moods, and when that happens I usually react with even more hostility towards everyone around me than normal.  
And that’s exactly how I reacted until I walked through the doorway of my English classroom. I glanced over to my desk and noticed my partner sitting in his adjacent seat, face pointed in the direction of the entrance almost like he was waiting for something. I couldn’t really tell because of his shades hiding half of his facial expression but it seemed to me that he perked up just a little bit after I entered. His slumpy posture straightened up slightly as I shuffled to my seat, watching him with my eyebrows unfurrowed for the first time that day, and he seemed to watch me too as I moved. Soon we were both sitting and for some reason still silently staring at each with nearly blank faces.  
I don’t know why, but we just sat there like that, oblivious to anything else going on. That is, until the bell rang indicating the start of class. I jolted in my seat, not expecting its short shrill rhythm and snapped my head to the teacher who followed in after the last of the students and began reminding us of what we were supposed to do that day.  
“So,” Dave started, normally and without the presence of an unofficial staring contest going on, “did you get anywhere last night?”  
I know I said I wasn’t in a good mood, but something told me not to be a complete bitch-boy to Strider that day. Naturally, I did my best to ignore that troubling feeling, admittedly to not much avail. “Yes,” I answered simply, digging out my notebook with all of my assignments in it.  
“Gimme,” he ordered, holding out his own work for me to take since it was ordered of us to look over each other’s advancements.  
Cringing slightly because I always hated the peer-edit portion of these things we traded papers and took a few moments to really soak up the small amounts of info on the pages.  
When I finished I sighed at his dare I say flawless efforts and said “Yours is good,” sliding it back over to his desk.  
He hummed amusedly, “I know, and I gotta say,” he paused, sliding my paper back over to me as well, “yours doesn’t totally suck ass either, Kitkat.”  
Glaring at him because of the use of the nickname again I raised an eyebrow, “Really?”  
He smirked in response, “Yeah, really. Seems to me like it just might shape up to be a goddamn delightful read when it’s done.”  
“You’re serious,” I questioned, still incredulous.  
“Do I look like someone who would lie to you?”  
“Yes, actually.”  
“Wrong. Take some notes, Karkat, I call shit out when I see it, and that,” he gestured to my paper, “is one rather shitless start right there.”  
I just nodded, narrowing my eyes at him, “You called me Karkat.”  
He was quiet for a moment, probably only now realizing that. “Must have been a slip. My apologies, Kitkat, won’t happen again.”  
I just rolled my eyes again, resisting the urge to protest his bullshit and we moved on to continue our papers, once again him helping me more than me helping him and a bountiful amount of more of his annoying bullshit to endure.


	4. Ch. 4

Dave and I decided to walk to his house together that day after school.   
Don’t ask me how it happened, to be perfectly honest I don’t even know why I agreed. He offered to help me more and said that it wouldn’t take too long so we might as well knock it out of the way before it got too late in the afternoon. I was rather close to giving my usual answer to the rare questions like that: “Hell fucking no,” but I didn’t. Instead I said “Sure.”  
So here we are, strolling down the sidewalk in a somewhat awkward silence, me pretending not to look like I wasn’t shivering and him… well who knows what he’s doing or thinking, and to add to that, who cares. Not me, that’s for sure.   
I had my arms crossed against my chest as I looked down at the pavement I was scuffing along. I glanced at Strider through the corner of my eye, contemplating whether or not I should attempt to strike up a conversation. Why, I don’t know, because normally in these types of situations I would be more than content with the lack of dialog, but for some reason I felt like complacent chit-chat was necessary at the moment, and each second passed without it was making me feel more and more uncomfortable.   
Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted when he asked, “Are you staring at me?”  
Immediately my head twisted to his direction, eyes slightly widened and focusing on his quirked eyebrow and questioning expression, however just as quickly I sent my gaze in the other direction, blushing and cursing myself at how un-casual that must’ve seemed. “No,” I mumbled.   
He gave a quiet chuckle, “Sure looked like you were. Also looked like you were pretty lost in thought, dazed.”  
“Well of course I was thinking, I don’t know about you but in the absence of conversation I don’t just stand there brain dead,” I retorted.   
He didn’t say anything for a moment, which made me curiously tilt my head back in his direction to observe his reaction. His face was tilted downwards in my direction too, an expression of something between smugness and consideration plastered across it.   
“It is kinda quiet, isn’t it? I dunno, I guess I was pretty lost in thought too,” he finally replied.   
“What were you thinking about?” I wondered.  
“What were you thinking about?”   
I rolled my eyes at him neglecting to answer my question, shifting my gaze to straight ahead again. “I was thinking about how quiet it was, funny enough.”   
He simply nodded.   
“Strider,” I tried again.  
“What?”   
“What were you thinking about?”  
“Oh, nothing important. No need to get your little troll panties in a bunch about it.”  
I sighed, glaring at him. He only chuckled again in response.   
And then, after a few more moments of what I thought would evolve into that somewhat-awkward silence again, he pointed out that we were almost to his house.  
“Bet I can beat you to it,” he said.   
“Dave, we’re at the nigh end of our high school careers, I think we’re a little too old for immature racing games.”  
“Three,” he started to countdown, fixating his posture to a more prepped stance.   
“I’m not running,” I professed.  
“Two.”  
“Dave.”  
“One!” he enthusiastically yelled, taking off and sprinting down the block. Anyone else, including me I’m sure, would’ve looked absolutely ridiculous, scrambling down the road with a backpack bouncing against their back gracelessly, but he looked comfortable with it all and somehow even made it look nonchalant.   
Like I stated, I didn’t run, however I did quicken my pace as he reached his front door, turning around to stare triumphantly back at me.   
When I finally reached him he greeted me by saying, “I told you I could beat you.”   
“I didn’t try!” I protested.   
“Doesn’t matter, I was right and I won, so suck it, Vantas.”  
“You are so fucking inane,” I said, glaring at him as we entered his house.   
He immediately went straight to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge and coming back with two pops, handing me one of them which I accepted. After cracking it open I set it down on his nearby table, along with my backpack which I unzipped to grab my English stuff.   
Halfway through retrieving it, however, he stopped me, pushing my open bag on the floor and causing all of its contents to spill out, and since it was unorganized as fuck a lot of the papers streamed out of the folders too, creating an even bigger mess.   
“What in the bulgegrinding hell was that for?!” I complained, annoyed and in shock. That was going to take a solid couple of minutes to clean up and restore to its previous chaotic order, and if there was one thing I knew it’s that it wasn’t going to be me who will do that.   
“We’re not starting that shit yet,” he explained.   
“But—Then why am I here?!” I argued.  
He shrugged impassively. “Well as of right now, I guess you’re here to hang out.”  
“But I don’t want to ‘hang out’” I argued.   
“Sure you do.”  
“I don’t.”  
“Have fun walking home then,” he replied simply, taking a sip of his Coke and starting to make his way to his room.  
After a few moments of contemplation and somewhat audible grumbling I finally started to follow him, not bothering to take my time in the walk to joining him in his room.   
I pushed through his door aggressively, making it known that I was annoyed, but he didn’t even bother taking note of the fact that I had walked in as he turned on his TV and what looked like a gaming console. He grabbed two controllers and flopped backwards on his bed, leaning up against the wall and extending his arm to hand me one of the controllers.   
I grouchily took it and sat down next to him.   
We played a few games, unsurprisingly he beat me at most of them, however at the few times that I had won I made my pride clear and he responded by insisting that he had let me win, but I doubted that, despite the fact that it was probably very likely that that was the truth. Naturally, throughout the game playing my grudge against him melted away, leaving me relaxed aside from the motivating drive to at least try to beat Strider.   
A couple of hours had passed like that and I was shocked to see that it was already a little after 5:30 when we took a break.   
In all honesty, I didn’t want to leave. Human God forbid, I actually had fun. But I knew my brother and dad would probably want me home by then, they don’t like it when I stay out all day without notifying to them that it would be happening in advance.   
So after explaining that to him, I gave my goodbye and congratulated him on the productive time we spent together and walked out of his room. He insisted that he walk me out but I only responded by insisting that that wasn’t necessary.   
As I stepped out into his hallway and made my way to the front entrance again, I actually smiled a little to myself, already starting to reflect the day. However the smile quickly faded when I remembered all of my stuff strewn out on the carpet.   
“Dammit,” I mumbled to myself. This was his fault, so with a sigh I called for him to come down: “STRIDER!”  
Soon enough I could hear footsteps make their way towards me and with a smirk he asked “What, miss me already? Do you need a goodbye kiss? Or did you just get lost on your way out.”  
I rolled my eyes at all three of those sarcastic inquiries and merely pointed at the shit all over the floor and commanded him to pick it up.   
After a few minutes of arguing he finally complied, reorganizing my bag and even going as far as placing it on my shoulders for me, which I asserted that that was far from necessary but he did it anyway and I tried to hide my, shameful to admit, blush. I’m pretty sure he noticed it, but if he did he didn’t say anything about it, just raised an eyebrow which I dismissed immediately.   
And after restating our goodbyes again, I finally left and walked home.


	5. Ch. 5

“You’re totally cheating! You absolutely shameless fucknut!”  
I was over at Strider’s house playing video games again. I know this is only the third time I’ve had the mental and physical capability of dragging myself over there, but it already felt like this could become a normal part of my everyday routine, which was pretty goddamn scary if you ask me.   
“Am not,” he protested with a smirk, “You just suck.”  
“If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I do not suck,” I grunted back.  
“Well, now that’s just disappointing.”  
“What?”  
“Nothing,” he chuckled.   
I rolled my eyes and set my controller down. Leave it to him to always revert back to his innuendos. “You’re about as mature as a fucking six-year-old human child who still requires his mother’s help when flossing the dried consumed mucus out of his teeth.”   
“As plausible as it is to compare me to a kid when I make a bj reference, I’m gonna have to discard that compliment because I’ve heard it too many times by now and it’s starting to feel repetitive.”  
“Ok, first of all, that wasn’t a compliment. You and I both know that. Second of all, you mean to tell me you’ve had that profession chucked at your incredibly ludicrous face multiple times, to the point where it is getting redundant, no less, and you still prove to be inadequate enough to not heed its message?”  
“That’s exactly what I mean to tell you,” he said, turning to face me smugly.   
I stared at him for a moment before sighing and rubbing my temples in mockery of my usually-would-be appalled reaction. To be honest, I was somewhat amused with him, and it disgusted me.   
He, also probably in attempts to mock the usual-would-be response to seeing a stressed friend, started rubbing my shoulders and offering lame cliché remarks about how I have so much tension in my back and need to learn how to not ‘let the hater’s in life get me down,’ which wasn’t even relevant to our situation but I ignored it nonetheless.   
I swatted his hand away and with a glare told him I hated him.   
Smirk still confidently sewn onto his face, he replied with a “Love you too, Kitkat,” once again proving that he can annoy me even more than I figured he could.   
And then we were left in silence for a minute or so. Why neither one of us tried to break our spiteful-vs-entertained staring contest during that time I didn’t know. I mean, I couldn’t really blame him for just sitting there like a sedimentary rock forming plentiful amounts of new layers because I was doing the same thing. Finally I decided it was starting to tiptoe into the awkward regions, which I wasn’t really up for getting drenched in that kind of territory again anytime soon.   
After morphing my vindictive expression with a somewhat curious one, I asked him the question I was sure he had heard about a million times by then: “Why do you always wear those sunglasses? Don’t they obstruct your vision?”  
He shrugged, “You get used to it.”  
“Ok, good for you for exceeding my expectations and giving at least a somewhat competent answer to one of my questions, but I think you can still elaborate more. Why do you wear them in the first place?”  
A few moments and one quirked eyebrow of mine later, he still didn’t answer. “Well?” I probed.  
He simply hopped up to a standing position on his bed and looked down at me “Because,” he offered.   
“Strider,” I complained in a monotone, unsatisfied tone.   
He shrugged again, leaping over me and off the bed, and landing solidly on the floor and making his way to the door. “I’m hungry, are you hungry?”  
“It’s like you aren’t even trying to hide the fact that you’re hiding something,” I retorted, not spontaneously switching subjects like him.   
Halfway out the door, he stopped and ducked his head back in to look at me. “Maybe I’m not hiding something.”  
“You obviously are.”  
“Maybe I’m not, though. Maybe it really is for ironic purposes. Hell, maybe it’s even for genuine purposes. Maybe I just really like this prime combination of shit-cheap plastic and metal my best bro got me for my birthday, ever ponder on that, Karkat?”  
“You just called me Karkat again,” I pointed out.  
“So what if I did.”  
“So what? It’s practically a breakthrough worthy of noting the federal authorities about.”   
“Ok, I’ll call channel seven and we’ll have them report this on the six o’clock news, and again at 11.”  
“Quit getting off task, we’re talking about something with actual relevancy here.”  
“You’re getting off task too.”  
“Shut the hell up, Strider. And while you’re at it, get to confessing why you insist upon always utilizing those horrible shades.”  
“I’m not telling you anything,” he retorted.   
“But you’re admitting there is something to actually tell, regardless of whether or not you will be the one to tell it?”  
“Keep dreaming, kid. Ain’t no way I’m admitting to such a thing or that you’re going to possibly pull off retaining this fine piece of likely mythological information from anyone else.”  
“God fucking dammit, Dave, just tell me already!” I said, springing onto my feet and marching over to him.  
He only over-dramatically shook his head in response, adding a “mm-mm-mm” to complement it.  
“And why the hell not?” I inquired.  
He thought about it for a moment. I guess he couldn’t come up with a very feasible answer because he merely said “I dunno.”  
After another few moments of silence I decided to reach up with one hand and expel him of his beloved sunglasses. I don’t know what changed his mind but surprisingly he didn’t protest. However unsurprisingly, once they were lifted off and folded down and lowered back to where normal hanging hand level would be, he had his eyes closed.   
“Strider,” I said quietly.   
“What?” he replied in a similar tone.  
Despite how obvious my question would be, I asked it anyways. “Can you open your eyes?”  
It took a minute, but eventually his eyes indeed slowly began to open, finishing with staring into mine and saying “Ok.”  
At first I was thinking so what? What’s the big deal about all of this? I mean, I had heard that the only usual iris colors for humans consisted of various shades and mixtures of blues, browns, and greens, but I soon dismissed all of this. It was irrelevant as I reciprocated the stare into his red eyes, getting rather lost in them.   
I’m sure I would’ve been cringing if I was watching this from a third-person point of view, much like I’m sure I’ll be cringing about it later, but at the moment nothing really mattered.   
That is until he decided to interrupt my content gazing.   
Trying to appear as nonchalant and dick-hearted as ever, he glanced upwards to somewhere I couldn’t tell as he reached up and flicked at one of my horns, halfway through saying the word “Happy?” when I snapped out of my trance and gasped at the sudden contact.   
It was just a flick, for fuck’s sake, but it was unexpected and therefore enough to make me to blush like crazy and avert my widened stare.   
Apparently it was also enough for him to notice something was off as well. Once again, he unexpectedly made contact with the same horn, only this time full-on grabbing it, curious.  
My heart-rate sped up and more blood rushed to my face as my eyes fluttered close and I uttered a painfully shameful and distracted small moan. I don’t know what he was thinking throughout this entire predicament but after a few seconds I came to my senses and shot backwards, smacking his arm away and backing into a previously dismissed nightstand in the process.   
My eyes were entrenched in paranoid contemplation of whether to stare at him or nearly anywhere else in my capable plane of vision in humiliation as I attempted to process what just happened and what the most beneficial thing to do next would be. I came up with nothing.   
I looked over at him to see how he was behaving considering the circumstances and found that he too was blushing. I avoided direct eye contact, however, because of sheer awkwardness and also I didn’t want the chance of ‘getting lost in his eyes’ again.   
He offered a meek uncomfortable laugh to break the reticence and said “Well….”  
I didn’t wait to hear what more he had to say but instead stated that “I--I should probably go now, uh, have a lot of homework,” and with my head down I began my fast walk out of his room. He didn’t reply but just stepped out of the doorway, giving my better access to the exit, but I didn’t get very far as halfway down the hallway I realized I still had his shades and turned around to give them to him. Face palming I shoved them into his chest and after he grabbed them and emitted a small “Thanks” I immediately turned back around, restarting my exit out of hell.   
“Uh, you don’t have to go, Karkat!” he called after me.   
I simply shook my head, “I have a lot of homework!” I repeated over my shoulder.   
“Ok, uh, yeah. Well, bye then. See you tomorrow!”  
Every word he said only made my embarrassment worse. “See you,” I said back, finally reaching his front door and not hesitating to open it and slam it shut behind me.   
On the walk home my mind was clouded and filled with turmoil, once again processing today’s events.   
Things were going so well too! Why did Strider have to go and fuck it up.  
I sighed. I really hoped it wasn’t fucked up now. He was starting to become welcomed company in my life, something I’ve been told I don’t have enough of by multiple people. And it was weird how Dave, of all people, was able to break through my isolation and get me to play fucking video games with him, of all things. And I’d hate to admit this, but I would really like to continue to play video games with him, amongst other activities, so hopefully that whole endeavor will be burned out of both of our memories soon enough. Hopefully. Oh god, what an over-analyzation I have to pursue tonight.


	6. Ch. 6

I woke up the next day (A/N: just so there's no confusion, it is now thursday in the story) feeling rested. I had another dream. I, of course, couldn't remember what it was about, but I got a feeling it was pleasant, which always puts me in a relaxed mood.   
Surprisingly, it also wasn't my incessantly annoying alarm clock to end my sleep, I woke up on my own. I don't think that's ever happened before, waking up before my alarm clock feeling well? Today was going to be a good day.   
At least that's what I thought until I checked the time. No, I didn't wake up before my alarm, I never set it. Fucking smooth Karkat, you're practically already late.  
Groaning, I shot up and raced to the bathroom, halfway through squeezing a small dot of tooth paste onto my tooth brush when I realized something.   
I didn't want to go to school that day, not at all.  
The previous day's events with Strider cleared up my mind and shone a spotlight on themselves. I cringed and facepalmed, I must've been too caught up in thinking about it last night and ended up neglecting to set my sleep-reaping alarm.   
Oh god, I can't go to school today, as much as I want to see him, I don't want to see him after that, it would be so fucking awkward!  
Then I heard a knock on my door, and Kankri's voice, muffled through the door soon filled my room. "Karkat? Are you almost ready? You don't want to be late, do you? I thought I had already talked to you about the importance of punctuality, however maybe it would be for the better that I refresh your memory. Afterall, the teachers can get very triggered by tardiness and I don't want you to have to deal with their consequences. Not to say that their consequence aren't reasonable, as I said, it is important to be on time--"   
"Shut the hell up!" I interrupted him while opening the door.   
He blinked as he stared down at me. "You aren't even dressed yet. Unless this is some new phase you are going through where you insist on wearing your crab-printed boxers and that unkempt sweatshirt to school, in which case while your boldness is admirable I highly doubt that would be acceptable attire."  
I resisted rolling my eyes, "Actually, Kankri, is it all right it I stay home today? I'm not really feeling well."  
"What is it, a physical condition? Or a mental one," he inquired, eyebrows furrowed.   
"Mental, I guess. I just don't think that I would be able to put my full attention into my work today," I was fairly used to spewing this bullshit to persuade my brother into letting me do things he would normally frown upon and advise against with a 30 page essay, however this time it was actually somewhat true.   
"What is all of this regarding? Did something happen that should concern me? Should I get dad?"  
"No, no, no, it's nothing big, I just really don't think going to school is my best option."  
He pursed his lips, thinking for a moment, "Well, I suppose if that's what you think you should do. I'll respect your opinion and explain to dad. However this better not become a regular thing. I know that once most students neglect their routines once they can be more inclined to do it again and that can be damaging to your education and development. Also, I think you should be sure to contact some acquaintances throughout the day, not during actual class of course, and receive a brief summary of what happened in your classes as well as the homework that was assigned and--"  
"Yep, got it. Thanks Kankri," I cut him off again and slammed the door shut. But then thinking it over, I reopened it hesitantly, "Hey Kank?"  
"Yes, Karkat?"  
"How... How do you know if you like someone?" I'm not quite sure why I asked it, afterall it was utterly humiliating asking him about this type of thing, but I think I decided I needed a different perspective.   
"Oh, uh, romance can be a very confusing subject for young people your age. I suppose... Well, I-I think it's different for everyone despite the many similarities and reactions to a new un-platonic attraction people share, however--"  
"Great, thanks." I changed my mind. Kankri was actually the last person I wanted to talk to about this.  
"But Karkat--"  
"You don't want to be late for school do you? Punctuality is very important," I reminded him. With that he turned around to leave, agreeing and muttering to himself more about punctuality and cursing himself because at this point there was almost no way he wasn't going to be late.   
I sighed and flopped down on my bed. Why did I ask that question?   
I guess the answer is obvious really, however being the stubborn fucknut I am I won't be admitting that to anyone any time soon. I mean, I can't actually like Dave again, can I?  
I sighed, I can, I really can, and I do. And I don't know what to do about it.


	7. Ch. 7

Well, I did something about it. I came up with a plan and created the necessary factors for following through with the plan too. However, whether or not I actually am going to follow through with it I don’t know. I mean, come on, this is big. This plan, if everything goes according to it, could initiate a, dare I say, relationship with Strider. And not just a, relationship, but an un-platonic relationship.   
On the other hand, if everything doesn’t go according to it, I could hate my life even more and end up having to force myself into a tiny imaginary box of awkwardness, damaging all of my future as well as current relationships with everyone because I would be so haunted by this mistake I will never want the risk of making another one ever again.  
But that’s not relevant, yet.   
I hope I follow through with it though, I worked pretty hard on this plan if I do say so myself and I’d hate to have all of that mental labor go to waste.   
I guess I’ll just have to see what happens, hopefully I won’t procrastinate too long.  
I carried on with my normal Friday classes. Some of the teachers were pissed I missed a day. Apparently I’d missed out on some very vital review work and it was going to take me a day or two to catch up on it since I won’t be sharing their direct guidance with the 29 other students who don’t give two moist croutons what the ever-loving fuck they’re talking about, and I said that I was ok with that. Other teachers didn’t even notice I was gone. Either way, I didn’t care, I had too many other things on my mind at the time, and most of my classes were pretty easy so it didn’t matter.   
And then I got to the dreaded horror I had become acquainted with in this past week, English class.   
The first obstacle, much to my relief, was the teacher. Surprisingly she was actually pretty humane about it all and just reasonably explained what my alternative options were since I didn’t have my assignment ready to turn in yet. Simple job well done.   
Next came Dave. I turned around from the teacher’s desk to observe him for a moment. Looks like he was just finishing his poem. I bet he only just did it now, fucking typical of him, and yet I also bet his grade will be perfect because he’s Mr. Goldstar. What a prick, I scoffed. And finally, upon noticing how attractive it was when he triumphantly ran his hand through his hair to push it out of his face, I gulped slightly and walked over to my desk, trying to act nonchalant.   
He looked up at me and offered a small smile, no indication of embarrassment over Wednesday’s events whatsoever. “Hey Kitkat, missed you yesterday.”  
I widened my eyes as I sat down and turned my head away for a moment, pretending to gather my supplies from my backpack when really I was just trying to calm myself down. He missed me? Genuinely? Or was this just another example of his ways of irony? I didn’t know, so I just decided to play it cool.  
“Yeah, I b—” Shit, my voice is all croaky for some reason. I cleared my throat and tried again, much less confidence and much less ‘cool’ this time around, “Yeah, I bet you did.”  
He chuckled. We didn’t really have the opportunity to converse much anymore due to class starting and team-work-collaboration-time ending, so after class was over we gave our meek goodbyes and continued on with our days until I ended up at my house after school, sprawled out on the couch and seeing how much time I could waste.   
My plan, it was due to initiate any moment now, but I didn’t want to do anything about it.  
I sighed, might as well do it before I could chicken out. And with that, I stared at the screen of my phone for twenty minutes, contemplating whether or not my message to strider was acceptable before deciding it was acceptable enough and pressing send. I got a reply almost immediately.   
CG: HEY ASSHOLE, MIND IF I COME OVER? I NEED SOME LAST MINUTE REVISIONS ON MY POEM.   
TG: you mean you havent turned it in yet?  
CG: OF COURSE NOT, I MISSED A DAY THEREFORE THE TEACHER WAS OBLIGATED TO LEND ME AN EXTRA DAY.   
CG: AND I NEED TO MAKE SURE IT DOESN’T SUCK.  
TG: well spending an extra day with me is a sure way to make sure it doesnt suck  
TG: and ill even revise your essay too   
TG: because im so goddamn helpful  
CG: SO I CAN COME OVER?  
TG: well i mean unless you were wanting to do this over the phone or something  
TG: sounds kinky   
TG: so yeah come on over  
TG: but be warned   
CG: WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?  
I didn’t get a reply, but I disregarded his ‘warning’ anyway. Probably just his shitty shenanigans again. After gathering a few things I was on my way.


	8. Ch. 8

I sighed while approaching his house once more, it had been a slow walk, but not slow enough because it couldn’t prepare me for the impending show time.   
I knocked on his door and tried not to appear as though I were fretting, and eventually I didn’t have to pretend because someone I had no clue who was answered the door, converting my nervousness into confusion. I didn’t get the wrong house did I? God what a fucking screw up I am. Oh well, I guess this is a sign I shouldn’t be doing this.   
I was just about to offer some crude apologies to the man who answered when I noticed how familiar he looked. Blonde hair, pale-ish skin, not only that but he was also wearing a signature smirk that was all too well known and burnt into my memory forever from Dave. This must be a relative of his.   
While I stood there in my silent deductions he cleared his throat. “You must be one of the lil’ man’s friends.”   
Snapping out of it, I scratched the back of my head and replied, trying to regain my brilliant and fool proof façade of acting casual and—oh who am I kidding, I probably look more suspicious than Adam Sandler in a serious drama movie. “Uh, yeah I guess so.”  
“Well great, I’ll go get him for you,” he said, just about to turn around when he took one last glance at me and raised an eyebrow above his shades. Yep, definitely a relative, what other fucked up family would constantly wear shades. That is, unless they are blind or light sensitive or something. Whatever, I’m getting off track, point is, he was eyeing me down instead of retrieving Dave like he told me he would two seconds ago. “Wait a second,” he finally said, “are you the one he’s been talking about all the time lately?”  
“What? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I scrunched my eyebrows. That couldn’t be me, could it?   
The man just chuckled, obviously he knew something and it was really piquing my curiosity.   
However before I could probe him on it anymore, I heard the “lil’ man” himself sprint into the entrance room. “Bro!” He maneuvered his way around ‘Bro’ and grabbed my arm, pulling me out of there and making his way to his room. “Don’t listen to anything he says,” Dave commanded.   
“Don’t worry, I’m still kind of too confused as to who the fuck he is to do that,” I said.   
We reached his room and he plopped down on his bed, pulling me down with him so we were sitting cross-legged facing each other. “That’s my bro. Or something like that, he’s not actually my bro but—you know what? Doesn’t even matter.”   
“How come I haven’t seen him before?” I asked, my eyebrows retaining their scrunched up position.   
“Well he was gone the past few days. Something about a friend of his dying. That or they just gave birth.”  
“Those seem like drastically different things, how could you not tell them apart?” I scoffed.   
He shrugged, “I didn’t go with him, therefore it didn’t concern me. Besides, one of them removes a person from the earth, the other brings one up to the party, who cares; they both do their share of barely altering the world’s population meter so it’s pretty much the same thing.”  
I didn’t have anything to say so I just stared at him judgmentally.   
After a few moments he coughed and let go of my arm which he didn’t realize he was still holding. It even looked for a second as if he was blushing, but only for a second. “So, why are you here again?”  
I sighed, here we go. I rummaged around my backpack, looking for the piece of paper. “Uh, I need you to look over my poem again, remember?”  
“Right, well hand it on over.”  
I hesitated, really starting to regret all of this. Panicking, I decided to see if I could stall anymore. “Wait! I have a question before we get into it.”  
“What, it can’t wait until after?” he wondered.  
“I guess not,” I answered. After a few moments of just sitting there I realized he was waiting for me to ask my stupid question already. I thought about what to ask, shit this isn’t going well. "Who was it that your bro said you were talking about all the time lately?”  
Ok, now he was definitely blushing. “No one.”  
“Dave?”  
“That question seems just a little off topic why don’t we get back to the stuff that’s actually relevant to your all-important education.”  
“Dave?”  
“I’m telling you no one,” he insisted. Grumbling some more, he added, “Bro’s only been here for a day and a half since it started, he doesn’t even know what the concept of ‘all the time’ means.”  
“Dave!”  
“Fine, yes, it was you,” he admitted. “What, am I not allowed to tell my bro about a returning friend I made? Is that against the law? Well then fuck you and your absurd rule system, I’ll rebel against it all I want, consider this the anarchy-age—”  
“Shut the fuck up!” I interjected before processing what he said. I tried to force away the light butterflies I felt, they really weren't helping, those fuckers. Not knowing what else to say, I settled for, “Uh, ok.”  
“Ok?” he repeated, maybe just a little unsure of himself.  
“Yeah, ok, there’s not anything odd about that, I guess.” There isn’t is there? People do talk all the time about their just-friends, right? I shouldn’t be reading into this.   
He nodded, obviously wanting to change the subject anyway. “Now about that poem.”  
I rolled my eyes. Looking it over once more I gave it to him timidly, not making eye contact and on the verge of another face palm. "I changed it up a little, don't ask why. Just, uh, just read it to yourself," I told him. "And don't laugh or I’ll fucking kill you."  
He smirked and I looked up at him for a moment. He was still looking at me as far as I could tell before he took a glance at the paper. "Come on, it can't be that bad now can it?"   
I didn't answer. Oh god this was a bad idea. I thought about what my chances of bailing at this point were, unfortunately they were pretty damn low unless I wanted to get even more suspicious than I could ever be comfortable with.   
"Let's see. ‘Red' by Karkat Vantas," he read, glancing back over to me with an amused expression. "Taking off of the master, I see."  
"Shut the hell up, I didn't know what else to call it," and now I was officially face-palming.   
He chuckled and resumed. "In this world--"   
"I told you to read it to yourself, you fuck nut! Not out loud!" I interrupted, blushing.   
He merely cupped a hand over my mouth, ignoring all signs of me protesting, and started again:   
"In this world it’s easy to be cynical,  
That's the way I lived, cynical was my pinnacle/   
My spite was growing at a rate of exponentially   
It was enough to tie the world off, potentially/  
But it wasn’t enough   
To keep out the rough,  
To burn away the tough,  
The one who kept on trying no matter what/  
And I don’t even know why I mean what a fucking prick  
Not giving up and always making me tick/  
Somehow he sneaked his way through   
And how I feel about that, well it’s far from rue/   
As much as it disgusts me to say  
He didn’t totally suck, no way no way/  
Not only that but we became friends  
How horrible, I thought, still I hoped it wouldn’t end/  
And it hasn’t yet, though it hasn’t been very long   
Probably getting ahead of myself, oh well fuck me if I’m wrong/  
And don’t you take that as a gross invitation   
You innuendo crazed douche, I didn’t mean it literally/  
And now I’m neglecting the rules of rhyme  
Not only that but I’m running out of time/  
What I’m trying to say before I get too far off track  
Is that my hate for you has been nothing but a lack/  
So I don’t hate you, how much more can I explain it  
That’s the truth but I’d be wrong not to completely elucidate it/   
Not only do you not absolutely disgust me,   
But you’re also fun to be around, comforting you see/  
And I wrote this the other day despite my lack of skill   
To try to tell you how I feel in a method that’s at least somewhat ill/  
So try to understand Dave and try not to make a show  
When I tell you that I, Karkat, like you more than just a bro."

It sounded weird coming out of his mouth. I couldn’t tell which moment it was when he realized that this wasn’t the same thing I had been writing for class, but he read the it pretty smoothly considering, only allowing a few pauses every now and then when he got to some key points of interest, like figuring out that it was about him.

Throughout it all I stared down at the floor, a look of annoyance plastered across my face to try to cover up the embarrassment which he didn’t notice because he was too busy reading. A few lines through he had taken his hand off of my mouth and placed it casually on my shoulder instead. 

He was quiet for a minute. Fuck, I screwed up by doing this didn’t I. I knew I was going to regret it. 

I took a stark glance up at him, timid once again, and found myself unable to look away because he was looking down at me again.

I couldn’t read his expression at first but the butterflies in my stomach resumed at full speed when he offered a knowing smirk. "How much more?" he finally asked.

"What?" I inquired, not knowing what he was talking about. 

"How much more do you like me than just a bro," he clarified, amused.

I glared at him, as if it wasn’t obvious. He was just making this worse, though I couldn’t help but be relieved by the fact that his reaction was significantly not negative. "Enough," I answered simply.

"Ok but do you mean you like me as like, a best bro? Because that’s more than just a bro you know."

"Dave."  
"I’m just saying I could use a little more elaboration is all, shit can get confusing and you don’t want me to misconstrue this do you?" he was having way too much fun with this, we both knew it.

"Dave," I repeated.

"Karkat."

I rolled my eyes and looked in the other direction. "I like you, Dave. It's as simple as that." 

He chuckled and lifted his hand to my chin to turn my head back in his direction. 

My glare melted away as he said his next words: "I like you too, Kitkat." 

After that we just stared contentedly at each other for a few moments, then he lifted his shades so they were sitting on top of his head and started to lean in.

And then we were kissing.

It didn’t last long, but I’m pretty sure that those butterflies evolved into velociraptors. 

He pulled away and we continued our staring. “How was that?” he asked ironically. 

“Fucking magical,” I answered

He chuckled and we spent the rest of the Friday afternoon talking, amongst other things, and long story short I had a date the next day. 

Overall, I’d say it was a pretty good week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well well well, there you have it my cats, the end. i hope you enjoyed and im glad if you did, and if you didnt then hey thats [some amount of time] youre never getting back so there you have it. oh my god it's so cheesy though, right? oh well i can deal   
> anyway hearts and kisses your way etc etc


End file.
